The world is a weary place
October is upon us. Instead of skeletons and trick or treat, I find myself feeling weary. The kind of bone tired that only comes from running a race that keeps getting extended every time you turn the corner. The sort of tired that makes you envy Rip Van Winkle, as there's such a temptation to sleep life away when life feels heavy.
For me, though, there's a cure. The peaceful endeavors of writing, gardening, and reading lift my spirts when nothing else can. The trifecta of calm never lets me down. I find that when the world doesn't make sense, getting dirt under my fingers does. Flipping book pages is an age old method of escape but remains effective. And even in sadness, in apathy, in weariness, there's beauty in expressing it. Out there are people who feel the same way, like taking another step forward requires every ounce of positivity they can muster, but they do it anyway, because what other choice is there? We won't succumb to the ways of this world. Not Yet. Not Ever.
And as always, there's this.
:) A safe harbor in any of life's storms.